Snap
by Cozy Shadow
Summary: He was always there…I never imagined how different it would be when he wasn't there. (Max) *Character Death*


**Goofy Characters © Disney**

 **Snap © Cozy Shadow**

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Set years after _An Extremely Goofy Movie._ Yeah…Not sure what inspired this, but I hope it's decent. :/

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 **One-Shot:**

 **Snap**

 _He was always there…I never imagined how different it would be when he wasn't there._

Maximilian stared out the coffee shop window for a long time. The rain drizzled lightly and in a melancholy way—as if the weather understood the mood of the adult.

His coffee cup remained untouched, but still warmed his hand willingly. Max let out an empty sigh as he turned his head away from the window with tired eyes.

The coffee shop was nearly vacant that morning. The only other person there was a business woman with her laptop and an elderly man at the counter. The cashier tried to make herself look busy, but it was obvious the day was going by too slowly.

Max hung his head low.

 _If only the day could be reversed. I thought I'd never get rid of him for years, even during college. And now…_

"Max?"

He glanced up at his best friend. P.J. stared at him apologetically and offered a warm smile. Max could only exhale through his nose heavily before saying anything. "Hey, P.J.…"

The other male sat across from Max and clasped his hands together. P.J. frowned at his friend. "Bobby offers his condolences. He's sorry he couldn't make it."

"At least you're here…" Max whispered.

There was a moment of silence between them. P.J. licked his lips while glancing out the window before looking back at Max. "Are you…okay?"

Max promised himself he wouldn't snap. He knew if he did…he wouldn't stop pounding his fists against the table. He wouldn't stop yelling—stop cursing the world for what it's done.

"No, I'm not P.J. My dad died," he glared at P.J. as if that had to be the stupidest question on Earth.

P.J. opened his mouth to speak but his expression softened and he stopped. He didn't know what Max was going through. The boy had lost his mother when he was younger and now his father.

P.J. still had his father.

What Max wouldn't do to have his now…

"Have you spoken to anyone else?" P.J. asked quietly.

"Sylvia?" Max suggested. "Yeah…" He couldn't handle her crying. Or else he would join her and never cease to hold the tears in. He had to stay strong. But for who?

It wasn't like he was a rock in their family. No…Goofy had been the rock. Yet his father had been passionate at the same time. Max just couldn't bring himself to do it. A part of him wanted to believe that if he went home…his father would be there.

But he wasn't.

Even when Max had pulled into the driveway…he knew. He knew there was no going back to the past. He could only hold their last words close to his heart.

" _See you next Thanksgiving, son."_

" _Yeah, Dad."_

" _I love you."_

" _Love you, too."_

Max tried to make himself feel better with that thought.

At least he hadn't fought with his father. At least he had hugged him and said goodbye. But there was always that thought…That lonesome thought that told Max in a discouraging tone that he would never be able to hug his father again. He would never get to say 'I love you.'

"I never thought I would see my father show his sadness," P.J. spoke suddenly. "…But he did. He wore this…depressed look when he heard the news. When I asked him if he was going to the funeral…all he said was, 'No.' I figure he doesn't want to think about it. In a way...I think your father and mine had a relationship that no one could understand."

The funeral had been yesterday. Max wanted to forget it already. He wanted this to be some sort of sick joke. He wasn't going to accept that his father was gone. He couldn't.

"…Yeah…"

Seeing that his best friend wasn't in the mood to speak, P.J. stood up. "Look, Max. I've got to go. My dad still wants all of my stuff out of the house by the afternoon." With a moment of hesitance, P.J. put his hand on Max's shoulder. "I'm so…I'm so sorry, Max."

Max could hear the choke in P.J.'s voice. The big guy was only a matter of seconds away from crying. Before leaving, P.J. came to a halt and glanced at his friend over his shoulder. "Roxanne called…She asked to speak to you."

Max nodded solemnly and P.J. left without another word. The bell on the door rang to signal P.J. had completely gone. Max stared out the window and watched his best friend walk down the sidewalk rather slowly.

 _Roxanne…I should've figured she'd call. Stacey called too. For a short time, only saying the regular stuff. But Roxanne…_

Max closed his eyes and breathed heavily. His hair dangled over his eyes, tousled and messy from not being cared to since the phone call.

 _She's married and has a family by now…I know she'd still care about him…But I can't think about talking to her right now. I can't go through with it right now._

They had gone their separate ways when she had gotten into a different college. Mutually broken up, Max still had had feelings for her for a short while. They had kept in touch for some time, but it had vanished by the time the X Games rolled around at college.

Max stared at his phone on the table. He'd wait and see. As for now…Max sighed and rose up from his chair. He grabbed his coffee cup, but threw it in the garbage on the way out.

Opening the door, he let the rain pitter patter on his head.

He yanked up the collar on the jacket, though it would do no good. Still…he was a walking zombie now. Walking to the curb, he got into his car. He had to see the house one more time before he left. He had to look at it. Even if memories started to overwhelm, he had to see his childhood home one more time.

Driving up the driveway again seemed heavier this time, like wet cement started to pull the tires in. He parked the car, aware that Sylvia would be there and packing her things. The 'For Sale' sign already up on the lawn.

She would be donating trinkets and whatnot that Max didn't want. They'd split the rest.

 _He never wrote a will…_

Max bit his bottom lip, debating on going in or not. With slow and steady steps, he stopped at the front door and opened it.

Staring down the hallway never seemed so dreadful. Looking up the stairs never felt so suffocating. Sitting at the kitchen table without the piles and piles of food for a 'hearty meal' was depressing. Walking in his room… _his_ room. His father's room.

 _That_ was the worst of it all.

Max let out a shaky breath, ignoring Sylvia talking to herself downstairs. She had stayed up most of the nights since the accident, crying and packing things and more crying. Max had decided to stay at a hotel for the week before the funeral.

But now…

Staring at the made bed…Max swallowed and collapsed on the sheets. It still smelt like his father. Memories rushed back to him with every turn in the house.

 _Flashback_

 _Silent in the night, and fearful, Max tippy-toed over to his father's bed. He was little—about six. And the nightmare still haunted his vision._

 _Grasping onto the sheets, he pulled himself up as he heard his father snort. Awake now, Goofy could only stare at his son quizzically. "Max?"_

" _I had a nightmare…" Max said in his young voice. He huddled into his father's chest while Goofy wrapped his arms around him._

 _It was the safety Max had felt. The safety from his father—saying that everything would be okay. That he would always be there to protect his son._

 _End of Flashback_

Max ignored the light steps up the stairs and in the hallway, but he knew Sylvia was watching his every move.

Her arms touched his shoulders and he exhaled a long breath he had been holding in. In a motherly manner, Sylvia climbed onto the bed with him and wrapped hers arms around him.

It felt odd for Max, but oddly reassuring.

Sylvia had never been a mother figure to him—though she had married his father several years ago after college. Still, that didn't stop her from trying. Max didn't remember any time he had spent with his true mother, but he figured it had been something like this.

"Your friend called again…"

 _P.J._ Max frowned at the thought but was silently grateful for his best friend's worry. He wasn't sure what he would do without P.J.'s kindness.

"Max, I want you to know that it's okay. You can share anything with me."

Pulling away, he sat slumped on the bed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Ever since the phone call…" Sylvia brushed a hair strand away from her face, "You've been distant. Quiet. It's not healthy to keep all the feelings bottled in."

"Ugh," Max scowled and got out of the bed, marching towards the door. "I don't need anyone to share my feelings with. What happened has happened. There's no going back. He's _gone_." He whispered the last part as he leaned up against the door frame.

Sylvia's hand went to his shoulder. "Max…I know. I loved him—not the way you did and I didn't know him for as long as you did…You have so many more memories with him than I do, and yet I still cried. Because I cared deeply for him."

"What's your point?" Max harshly muttered, glaring at the floor. He gripped the door frame tighter.

"You haven't cried. Not even at the funeral."

He closed his eyes and tried to remember to breathe evenly. But he couldn't. They came in short breaths at first. Then he turned around and with a blurry vision, glared at Sylvia. "He was all I had left. And now he's gone…I just can't accept that yet. I _can't._ And to think, I was always telling him to get his own life, to leave me some privacy," he motioned to himself as he stepped closer to her, "and now…" his lip trembled as he faltered in his statement.

"…And now he's _gone_."

There was a long pause. Sylvia wasn't sure what to say. She never had any children of her own and Max was going to be the only one she would get. She rubbed his back softly and tried her best at the parenting thing, but she knew that only pushed him away farther.

"Max…You and I both know that people don't live forever. There would always be that time when your father wouldn't be here…"

"But it wasn't _his time_ yet…" Max was still facing her but he hung his head to the side. He shook his head roughly. "I should've treated him better."

"You did."

"No, I mean—I mean," Max sniffled. He couldn't handle it any longer. The first sign of the snap was coming. And he didn't want it to happen. But it would. He knew it would eventually. "I shouldn't have tried to push him away…He lost his wife and only had me…"

Sylvia didn't hesitate to wrap him in a hug again. This time, Max accepted it. He burrowed into her shoulder and wept a little. "He only had me…He was the best father…I could never amount to who he was."

"Shhh…" the female rubbed his back again. "It's going to be okay. Life moves on but if you don't get those emotions out now, Max, they'll be bottled in forever. There's always that one person who feels guilty when someone they know dies…But don't be that person, Max. Please. Especially if you hold your feelings in. Those types of people…they do something drastic," Sylvia let a tear slide as Max shook harder and his cries became louder.

"I pushed him away…" Max collapsed in her hold as they slid to the ground. Sylvia, shocked, kept a hold on him nonetheless. Sitting on her knees now, she combed through Max's hair as he cried and shouted for several minutes in her lap.

Words of anger and words of sorrow—filled with memories that cut deep. Max couldn't take the heartache. He couldn't believe the universe had allowed this to happen so soon.

Sylvia sighed gently and kissed his head as he continued to let his emotions pour out.

He pounded the floor with his fist and he let the tears flow through. He shouted at no one in particular to bring his father back. He cried at the fact, the pointless, heartbreaking fact, that his father wasn't the one holding him.

"It's frustrating when someone dies so suddenly, Max. You want to yell at the world through your hiccups and you want to glare at it through your tears. But even when your voice becomes hoarse and you run out of tears, the truth will still be there to stare you right in the face—they're not coming back."

Sudden realization hit Max like a train.

This was for real. This was happening.

There was no going back to the past and changing things. Life would move on, but he would always have to deal with that anguish—the knowing that his father wouldn't be there to hold him, to annoy him, to love him, and to be a father again.

Max clung on to Sylvia even tighter as tears crept down his cheeks, his throat choked up with audible sobs and shouts, and his heart ached as acceptance flowed through.

 _He's really gone. Forever._

 _Fin_


End file.
